Hey Elise // by Elise Hu

Even though I gave him a hard time for, oh, our entire childhood, I’m really proud of my little brother, Roger Hu. He is risking his lungs to live in frighteningly-polluted Beijing for the sake of his startup, TeeKart. TeeKart is teaming up with golf courses across China to allow golfers to book tee times online. (I’m told that’s not a widely available service in China right now.)

TeeKart held a big launch event this week at a gorgeous course on Hainan Island, China. Cousin Cary, who is the company’s CTO, took a bunch of pictures. For some reason, Roger Hu and team decided to look UTTERLY RIDICULOUS in almost all of them. I had to share a few — he’s in the orange:

I don’t even…

Maybe they were being ironic?

I guess this is to show they were tired after a long day of golfing.

Jerry at Gingko Gardens shows us where we had to amputate mango tree to save him, again.

I know I’m overly sentimental about this damned tree, but our mango tree is a survivor. Mango trees really don’t live in places north of South Florida, for one. And the now four-foot tall plant sprung up from the seed of a grocery store mango my dad ate in St. Louis and threw in the ground. It’s since survived moves from Missouri to Texas and Texas to Washington, two bouts with some nasty fungus, a lost limb and even the time Matty flew his drone into it, chopping off some of its leaves.

But mango tree is no longer four feet tall. It lost its second of two main branches today, after it fell to the same disease that cost the other one about a month ago. Thankfully, before things got worse, the mango tree had a good few weeks in which it sprouted a few baby branches closer to the root.

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After amputation.

Since the 2011 fungal scare, Mango Tree sprouted a whole new limb and has grown at least six inches. But last week, something scary happened. One of his limbs started showing signs of decay, and all the leaves on that limb started drying up. It didn’t make sense, since the main limb is doing fine, and below it a new branch is growing.

Today Matty rushed Mango Tree to a nursery where the gardeners gave us the bad news: Mango Tree would have to lose a limb if we want him to have a chance at survival.

The amputation just happened. Matty is mourning. Any advice you have or stories you can share that might help will be appreciated.

Well folks, the fetus is now a tiny human. She (yes, it turns out fetus was a lady) is now home from the hospital after a quick delivery and a less-than-24-hour stay. I awoke Saturday morning with contractions — which happened to be the same day my parents were getting to town from Amsterdam to support us postpartum — and by Saturday night, Eva Blythe Hu-Stiles made her grand entrance.

Like a good journalist baby, she waited until right up against her deadline to arrive. (She was due on Sunday.) The metrics: 8 pounds, 2 ounces and 22 inches long. Full head of black hair (which the nurse and midwife made me very aware of while she was crowning) and dark blue eyes, for now.

As for the name, I just needed to pick something simple that any of my Chinese relatives could pronounce, hence Eva with the Spanish pronunciation. Blythe is after Matty’s late paternal grandmother, who worked in a newsroom and was a supporter of the civil rights movement way before it was cool.

Just as she was awesome as a fetus, Eva has been awesome as a baby, sleeping for long stretches, eating lots and passing all her random medical tests with flying colors. Thanks to all of you for your love and support during the pregnancy, as I know the real ride is just beginning.

P.S. While she’s in town, my hobbyist photographer mom is taking some fun shots of Eva, which inspired me to start Eva Everyday, a tumblr that posts a select Eva photo each day. Check it out if you’re interested.

An ongoing debate. (Photo by Denise DeBelius)

I’m now at that stage of pregnanthood where I feel like the Kool-Aid man, about to bust through a wall going “OH YEEEEAH.”  But Fetus is not scheduled to arrive for another two weeks, which means I’m maintaining my regular work schedule, minus the air travel. 

For those who have been through this sort of thing or are just curious, here’s what we know: The baby’s active and his head is down, in the optimal position for delivery. He/she is still getting properly oxygenated, and midwife is estimating he/she is at about seven pounds right now. (It didn’t stop some various pals from guessing birth weights at 27 lbs, however. Stiles data-vizzed our pals guesses for birth date, weight and sex.)

Really healthy and smooth situation over here. I haven’t had any back pain or skin weirdness and usually my shoes fit fine. (The exception is after my chili cheese dog binges, which are normal in my diet.) We are generally set with our baby stuff, thanks in large part to the two showers from this summer, and my online shopping problem.

I switched to midwives instead of an OBGYN practice about four months into the pregnancy. (If you are interested in the reasons why, reach out to me anytime.) The midwives are fantastic and they catch babies at the hospital, so there are surgeons nearby should they be required. But our hope is to let everything go as spontaneously and medication-free as possible. Now we wait.

The saying is "bun in the oven," but SkyMall offers this great hot dog bun TOASTER!

Yep. I’m slowly wrapping my brain around this situation.

The Chinese think it is highly auspicious to have a “dragon baby” — a child born in the Year of the Dragon. (Women in China are rushing to get fertility treatments because a dragon baby is apparently too lucky to be left to chance. Crazy, right?) The Wall Street Journal reports:

Being aligned with cosmic forces is important in Chinese culture. The year of the dragon is supposed to be particularly fortunate for babies, marriages and businesses. Those born as dragons are “the strongest, smartest and the luckiest—supposedly,” says Yibing Huang, a professor of Chinese literature and culture at Connecticut College.

[...]

Chinese often schedule important life events to take advantage of the luckiest times. A recent lunar year that spanned two springs spurred a spike in weddings. And even though births are trickier to plan, in 2000, the most recent year of the dragon, 202,000 more babies were born in Taiwan than a year earlier, according to the Taipei Times citing government statistics.

I was personally way less interested in a dragon baby due to my own zodiac sign: the dog. It is the sign that’s least compatible with the dragon, and I already have one dragon to contend with — my husband. Now, barring unforeseen events, I’ll have two dragons to go up against. Grrrrreat.

Observation: My going vodka-free has created cascading problems. But the fetus has been awesome to me. Wouldn’t have been able to enjoy Costa Rica, assorted work travel and/or all the SXSW magic — Jay Z, Radiohead, etc — while sick. Fetus is always game to party. “Of course it is,” Fiscus said. “It is YOUR baby. Even if it looks like Matty.”

Fave Reactions:

ME: My eggo is preggo.
REEVE: Holy shit.

ME: I’m pregnant.
JAVAUN: [Incredulous] HOW DID THAT HAPPEN!?!?

ME: I’m knocked up dude.
JAY: Dude, you are going to be so huge.

ME: Yeah, so I’m pregnant.
MCKENNEY: That baby is going to come out with a vodka tonic in one hand and a hot dog in the other.

I started piano lessons at age five, and began competing in classical competitions by age seven. At eight, my playing partner Linh and I won the Missouri Music Teachers Association state title in duet, and even though I went on to perform and compete in classical piano until 9th grade, that early win was basically the highlight of my competitive piano career.

That's my cousin with Van Cliburn. (Photo by Van Cliburn Foundation)

Even then, I’d already heard the stories about my cousin Chris Shih, who lived in Maryland and was a piano prodigy. As I was growing up and fussing around with Chopin nocturnes, he was being backed by the National Symphony Orchestra and studying to be a doctor at the same time.

When I was 15, I met him for the first time in Fort Worth, where my mom took me to see him play in the preliminary round of the Van Cliburn International Piano competition. He was amazing. He represented the US in the prestigious professional contest even though he was really concentrating on wrapping up med school. Despite reviews calling his opening round performance “flawless,” he didn’t advance, possibly because the judges knew he wasn’t aiming to be a professional pianist.

Thank goodness the Van Cliburn Foundation created a similar quadrennial competition for amateurs above the age of 35, officially called the Van Cliburn International Piano Competition for Outstanding Amateurs. This year, Chris was finally old enough to enter, and lo and behold, HE WON the whole darn thiing. (For context, I recommend a compelling documentary about the 2007 contest, featuring some of the same finalists who Chris beat out last week.)

He totally MURDERED some Brahms for his final round performance. Thankfully my fantastic employer, NPR, posted Chris’ entire 30-minute performance of the Variations on a Theme from Handel (by Brahms, confusing, I know). NPR also interviewed Chris for Weekend All Things Considered, in which he talks about drug use and music all in one segment. Listen to both.

So it’s quite a treat to be part of the extended Shih family, with all the overachievers and all. I get a lot of questions about tiger moms ever since that became a meme, and I’m proud that all the success stories in the family were products of pretty progressive, hands-off parenting. Cheers to Chris and the anti-tiger parents out there.

Healthy mango tree, circa summer 2010.

Three years ago, when my parents were still living in St. Louis and not The Hague, my dad ate a grocery store mango and planted the seed in the ground to see what would happen. Being the excellent stewards of life he is, of course my Dad’s seed sprouted a tiny tree.

In 2009, after my dad retired and moved across the Atlantic with Mom, he forced this tree upon Matty and me. We drove it in the backseat of Matty’s car, from St. Louis to Austin. Dad kept telling us to plant it in the backyard, but I’d grown so attached to Mango Tree and his story that I didn’t want to plant him for fear we’d have to leave Austin someday.

Matty has cared for and talked to Mango Tree nearly every day for the past two years, as it’s sprouted more branches and inched taller and taller. If the temperature ever dropped below unbearably hot, Matty brought him inside. Then, when we made the difficult decision to move to Washington, Mango Tree rode in a backseat again, all the way from the 512 to the 202.

Dad came to visit last month. He was stunned and amused to see mango tree had grown to be a good three feet tall, especially since he actually remembers it as a seed.

Sick mango tree, tonight.

The mango tree that could — a sapling that came to symbolize a fruitful life for Matty and me and whose health gave us some confidence that we could successfully care for a living thing — is now quite ill.

His leaves have turned yellow and spotty, his branches are turning a powdery white. We think it’s a fungal disease. Dad said we needed to get him to a nursery to diagnose the issue. Matty, who’s out of town tonight, wants me to find some sort of spray to fight the illness yesterday. If you have suggestions for what else we oughta do, let me know.

I know it’s sort of ridiculous to feel so frantic about a plant. But as it is with pets, Mango Tree’s part of our family now. If there were an overpriced emergency nursery as there are emergency animal clinics, I’d be rushing the little guy there right now.

Time for another round of iPhone photos. We’re actually in my grandma’s home city of Taichung now, to celebrate Chinese New Year with the extended family. Family from Chicago and the DC area have joined us here at grandma’s for a mini-reunion, which is what Chinese New Year is all about.

In the unlikeliest of places, an underground used bookstore underneath YongKong St., Matty finds a 1975 printing of "Precision Journalism," by Philip Meyer, the father of data journalism.

Yeah, I'm four years old.

As part of Chinese New Year tradition, we honored Heaven and Earth by following the ritual of sacrifice to the ancestors, uniting ourselves with living members who had died. We sacrificed money and clothing.

Matty dives into a family game of mahjong, learning some Chinese characters along the way.